I Die Without You
by wickedRENThead1783
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures...measures Maureen wasn't ever willing to take. Until now. MoJo breakup. Tiny bit of Roger/Mimi. T for mentions of drug abuse and language- and 'cuz it's RENT, people.
1. The Breakup

"Nothing is going on, Jo! Nothing happened!" she exclaimed, running to catch up with Joanne. She'd been talking to a waitress named Fredi- nothing else had happened. Yet apparently Joanne had seen enough to convince her that Maureen was cheating. Again.

"Don't give me this crap tonight, Maureen! I've had enough!"

"Pookie, please believe me!"

"No. I won't play dumb this time and just act like it never happened. I had thought... I had thought you meant it when you said I was the only one." The mocha lawyer shook her head. "You know, Mark had warned me about you. Way before any of this ever happened. I can't believe I didn't listen to him."

"Mark? What the hell does Mark have to do with anything?"

"You cheated on him, too, didn't you?"

Maureen looked up, trying to mask the hurt in her eyes. "That was different!"

"How? Tell me, how is this different than any other time? How the hell am I any different from Mark?"

"I didn't love Mark!"

Joanne just shook her head. "And you didn't love me either, did you?"

Maureen looked around for anyone who could back her up, but the Life was almost empty by now. All of the Bohos had left within the last half hour. It was no use. Whether she liked it or not, Joanne would never believe her. Her heart dropped, and tears of anger and sadness began welling up in her eyes.

"I do!" she whispered in a last vain attempt to stop her lover from leaving. "I love you, Pookie!"

"Goodbye, Maureen," Joanne said coldly, striding out of the cafe. Regardless of the tears rolling down her cheeks, the mocha woman forced herself to keep walking, never looking back. If she looked back, she'd fall for it again, and Joanne's emotions couldn't take another blow.

As soon as the lawyer was gone, the diva felt like the oxygen was sucked out of the room. It was hard to breathe; her mind was reeling, and she was extremely dizzy. She leaned on a chair for support. The one time she was actually innocent, Joanne accused her of cheating. How typical.

"Guess I had it coming," she muttered to herself, plopping back down at their table and resting her head in her hands. She had never really cheated on Joanne- she had never even _wanted _to. In a sickening way, though, making Joanne jealous reassured her. She saw the hurt and irritation in Joanne's eyes and knew the lawyer really did love her. Truthfully, she didn't think before she flirted- it was instinctive. Attractive person equals flirt, simple as that. It was that instinct that had put Maureen in this situation time and time again. Joanne didn't understand- Maureen only flirted to get _her _attention.

"Need another drink, hun?" one of the waitresses asked, gazing sympathetically at the performer, who just nodded. She walked over to the bar, bringing out out another bottle of beer, then strode back and handed it to the distraught brunette.

"I'm broke," Maureen informed her in a glum voice, chugging half the bottle and running a hand through her hair.

"It's on the house."

She mumbled a thank you and left the cafe, heading back to her apartment. Correction- _Joanne's _apartment. When she reached the door, she found it locked for the first time in months. Of course, she never had the key- Joanne knew that. Looking down, Maureen noticed a bulging suitcase sitting on the ground, with what appeared to be all of her belongings inside.

Choking back a sob, the diva abandoned the suitcase, practically running back out and into the snow. The icy wind bit at her face, and Maureen wished she'd at least bothered to get a jacket before she left; she knew she couldn't have handled another minute at the apartment, though, knowing Joanne was on the other side of the door and unable to get in. Instinctively, she turned left.

The performance space was empty, save for a few hobos sleeping next to shopping carts and random clothes and trinkets they'd found on the streets. Ignoring them, Maureen climbed onto the stage they'd built for her protests and sat with her back to a crate, hugging her knees to her chest. Normally she would just go back to the Loft and wait until the next day. Joanne would usually forgive her (after a little..._persuading_). This time was different, though. The lawyer had made it clear that she never wanted to see her again, and Maureen knew she probably would't be getting another chance.

Burying her face in her arms, she finally let out the torrent of wracking sobs she'd been holding in since she'd left the Life.

* * *

><p>It was Collins who found her first. He, Mark, and Roger had taken a shortcut, going to meet Mimi at the Catscratch after one of Mimi's midnight shows. As usual, Collins was attempting to get lonely little Mark to put down the camera and Roger to cheer up a little bit- at this point in the night, he was so drunk it had probably worked.<p>

"...and he was like, 'No, dude, I don't-' Maureen?" he asked, turning and walking towards her. The performer turned her head away from one of her oldest friends, trying to calm herself down. It was no use, though. She couldn't stop the tears. Collins bent down, gently pulling Maureen's arm away to reveal her tear-stained face. "What's up, little Mo?"

She tried to speak, but couldn't find the right words. Her throat was too constricted for her to make any sound at all. Therefore, she just buried her face in her hands, trying to hide her expression from the three guys.

"Mo, come on," the anarchist slurred, sitting down beside her and putting an arm on her shoulder. "Talk to us."

Roger leaned against the wall, folding his arms and staring at the floor, lost in thought about who-knows-what (or more like who-knows-who). Mark just smirked and sat on the edge of the stage as he filmed the entire thing, already having guessed why she was like this.

"Leave me the fuck alone, guys," she managed to choke out.

"Let me guess," Mark said. "You cheated, Joanne got angry. You two had a fight. You begged for forgiveness. Joanne left, probably kicking you out of her apartment. Then you came here." If looks could kill, Mark would be dead three times over. Seeing Maureen's glare, the filmmaker shook his head, still smirking. "Stop making a big deal of it, god knows she'll take you back tomorrow. You're such a drama queen."

"Querido dios, Mark, just leave her alone."

Mimi walked over to the three. The petite dancer swatted at Collins' arm, causing him to groan and scoot a few feet across the stage. Sitting in his spot, Mimi put a thin arm around Maureen's shoulders. "Mo, are you okay?"

The only response was a sniffle.

"What's wrong?"

It took a few seconds before she could reply. "Joanne," Maureen whispered, finally able to speak through the tears.

"Oh, chica..." The latina sighed, giving her friend's arm a sympathetic squeeze. She pulled her jacket sleeve over her hand, using it to wipe the tears off the brunette's face.

"She's not-" hiccup "-going to take me-" sniffle "-back this time, Meems," she sobbed, burying her face in the younger girl's shoulder. "I could see it in her eyes." Hiccup. "This was the last straw."

"Ah, so typically Maureen," Mark said. "Cheats on her partner, then expects sympathy for it."

Irritated, Maureen's head shot up. "I didn't cheat this time! I really didn't, so if I were you, Mark, I'd shut the fuck up before I kick your ass into next fucking week!"

"It's okay, chica, calm down. Mark's just being a dumbass," Mimi soothed. "He doesn't know what he's talking about." She turned to the boy in question. "Mark, do us all a favor and put down the god damn camera."

The performer took a few deep, shaky breaths before resting her face in her hands. "I seriously didn't cheat this time!"

Roger walked over, messing up her dark hair and slumping down next to her. "We believe ya, Mo," he slurred, taking a swig from a beer bottle Maureen hadn't even noticed he'd been carrying. "Chill." Maureen leaned her head on his shoulder, wiping her eyes.

Mimi rubbed her back. "Joanne probably just assumed she saw something and overreacted. She'll probably come around tomorrow. Come on, you're staying at my place." Usually the latina stayed at the loft, but sometimes she and Roger stayed the night at her apartment, for reasons Maureen didn't care to visualize.

The drama queen opened her mouth to protest before realizing she had nowhere else to go and finally shutting it again with a small nod, figuring it was either that or put up with a drunken Mark and Collins all night. After she finally calmed down, she stood, allowing herself to be led down the street and up to Mimi's apartment. She curled up on the lumpy couch, which was pushed up against the wall, one of the few pieces of furniture in the whole apartment. Mimi and Roger briefly said goodnight to her and retreated into the bedroom; inside, Maureen couldn't help but wish that could've been her and Joanne.

"I'm sorry, Jo," she whispered into the darkness. "I love you."

* * *

><p>"Hey, white boy, is there any food?" Collins asked, searching around the room (though he already knew perfectly well that there wasn't any.)<p>

"Were you expecting Santa to come bring us a box of Cheerios?" Mark asked him, bent over his camera screen and attempting to ignore his hangover. "Of course there isn't." There hadn't been food for days.

The door to the loft slid open, and Roger entered, his arm around Mimi. "There's no food, Collins, you can stop looking," he said, not even having to see the wannabe chef to know what he was doing.

"Where's Maureen?" Mimi asked, sitting on the table and examining it's cold, metal surface. Since the incident last Christmas, everyone kind of avoided the table, save for the latina dancer. She was the only one who still felt comfortable around it. It was the table where she'd last seen Angel.

"She's not at your place?" Collins asked, his head still in the old refrigerator that had broken so many times it was useless by now.

"No. I thought she came here," the dancer replied with a shrug.

"She's probably over there begging Joanne for forgiveness," Mark guessed. "Possibly standing on or walking over the furniture. Most certainly making a scene."

Mimi whacked him in the arm. "Be nice." As usual, Mimi was protective of the performer. Since Angel had died, Maureen and Mimi had grown closer, in a way. Both had been close to the drag queen, looked up to her for advice in times of need; now that she was gone, they had to lean on each other for support- with the relationship drama both of them went through on a daily basis, they certainly needed it.

"I'm sorry, but she deserves it!" Mark exclaimed. "If she wants to act like a bitch, she needs to face the consequences."

"Mark, we all know you're jealous," Collins called, finally shutting the refrigerator door and joining the others in the living room. "No use hiding it."

The filmmaker's face flushed, and he looked down at his feet. "Am not," he mumbled.

"Watch: as soon as she gets back, he's going to be trying to seduce her," Roger muttered as he walked into the kitchen, smirking. "Don't you remember what he did last time she and Joanne broke up?"

The filmmaker's face turned beet red, causing everyone to burst out laughing. "Can we please not talk about this?"

"Okay, we can save it for later- at the time, you were too busy with that whole..._situation _to notice the fact that I caught it on video," Roger announced, pulling a tape from his back pocket and raising an eyebrow. "A little something to add to your documentary."

Mark paled, then flushed, then lunged for the tape. Roger pulled it away just in time, shoving it back in his pocket. Mark's mortified expression caused everyone in the room to burst out laughing.

"You suck, Roger, you know that?"

"Yup."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: First fic, so please be nice! Sorry about this chapter...the others are better. I promise!  
><strong>**Tell me if I should continue or not. I'll probably post the second chapter tomorrow, regardless.  
><strong>**R&R!**


	2. At The Life

**A/N: Okay, I wrote this at one o'clock in the morning. Bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: As much as it pains me to say this... *sigh* I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>"Guys, let's get out of the loft."<p>

Mark, Roger, Mimi, and Collins were sitting at a table, so bored they were reduced to card games. Ordinarily, playing poker with the Bohos might've been fun, but all they had to bet with were a few matches and $1.42 in change.

"Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn't want to miss out on all of this fun," Collins remarked sarcastically. Mimi rolled her eyes.

"Guys, I'm serious," she said. "It's my day off. Let's go to a bar or something."

"How exactly are we going to pay for it?" Mark asked.

There was a pause, and Collins started chuckling. "Since when has that ever been a problem, Mr. Cohen?"

Roger stood up and stretched, laying his cards on the table and causing a unanimous groan from the other three players. "I win."

After a few moments, Mimi stood too, smiling seductively and walking her fingers up her boyfriend's arm. "Hey, Rog," she murmured, gazing into his eyes.

"Yeah?" he replied with an eyebrow raised, ignoring how much he wanted to kiss her.

She pressed her lips to his, only pulling away after about seven seconds. "Wanna switch hands?"

"Not a chance," he murmured, shoving the change into his pocket and resuming the kiss, which evolved into a full-on makeout session. Mark stared at his cards, red-faced, while Collins watched with a wistful expression, undoubtedly reminiscing of his Angel.

Noticing this, Mark cleared his throat. "Erm...guys." When the anarchist wasn't looking, Mark jerked his head in his direction.

The couple pulled away, smiling and gazing into each other's eyes. Finally, Mark and Collins stood, each grabbing one of Roger's arms and pulling him toward the door. His girlfriend followed, laughing. She stopped.

"Wait," she said. "Let's invite Maureen. She probably needs to get out."

"Where is she, though?" Roger asked.

"Probably at Joanne's place, getting herself on the naughty list," Mark muttered.

"Well, then, we'll invite them both," Mimi decided, flouncing over to the phone and dialing the number to Joanne's apartment.

The lawyer picked up after the third ring. _"Joanne Jefferson speaking."_

_"Hey, Jo, it's Mimi."_

_"Hi."_

_"Listen, we were gonna go down to a bar or the Life or something. Do you and Maureen want to come?"_

_"Maureen and I broke up," _Joanne deadpanned. Mimi recognized the tone- it was Joanne's 'lawyer voice.' So Joanne _was _hurt... Probably just as much as Maureen, Mimi guessed, if not more.

_"She didn't go back over there this morning?" _the stripper asked, looking over at the three boys, who shrugged.

_"No..." _There was a long pause.

_"Joanne, are you okay?" _Mimi finally blurted, concerned.

_"Um, yeah...I mean, I'm not exactly being beaten up here." _She forced a small, uncharacteristic laugh.

_"That's not what I mean, chica, and you know it."_

Another brief silence. Mimi heard Joanne take a few deep, shaky breaths. _"...I need to get back to work."_

_"Oh. Okay. Well, if you feel like coming, we'll be down at the Life."_

_"Thanks."_

_"Bye, Joanne." _The line went dead. Mimi hung up the phone, shrugging. "Where do you think Mo went?"

"She probably went back to the performance space or something," Roger said, putting an arm around his girlfriend. "Come on. We'll look for her later."

The latina nodded, and the four walked out of the loft.

* * *

><p>They sat at their normal table. The waiter didn't even ask; he brought around four beers and a bottle of wine. Mimi supposed it was because he was tired of people yelling at him for wine and beer. She shrugged.<p>

"Hey," the manager called, spotting them at the table. "You guys. You know your friend, what's-her-name, the one who started that riot a year or two ago-"

"Maureen," Mark interrupted.

"Yeah, her. Your friend Maureen came in here this morning. Left without paying. You know, by now you guys owe me..." he paused, "...I wanna say a grand total of seventy-three bucks, and that's just from the last time all of you guys came here. Listen, if you don't start paying I'm gonna have to kick you out of the resturant."

"Chill, dude, we'll pay next time," Roger told him. He turned in his seat, raising his already empty beer bottle. "Hey, waiter! Beer, please?" He turned back to the manager. "You were saying?"

The curly-haired man looked irritated, tapping his foot impatiently as he spoke. "Are you gonna pay or not?"

"We told you, we'll pay next time," Mark said.

"Here, this is a start." Roger dropped his poker winnings into the guy's outstretched hand. Looking like he wanted to stab someone, the manager walked away, cussing them out under his breath.

"Wait," Mark called.

Giving them all the evil eye, the man turned back around. "What?" he snapped.

"What was Maureen doing here?" the filmmaker asked. Inside, he knew, they were all worried- when she was emotionally driven to it, the brunette could do some crazy things.

"Ordered a beer or two. She was talking to that guy you two used to meet here," he said, pointing at Mimi and Roger.

"Which guy?" Mimi asked. There was a moment of silence, and suddenly Roger was on his feet, eyes wide, a dangerous expression on his face.

"Ponytail? Dark hair? Mustache and beard?" he growled.

"Yeah. That one."

"Roger, who-" Mimi started, but her boyfriend shushed her.

"Where'd she go?" Roger growled, grabbing onto the manager's shirt and nearly lifting him off the ground. "Did he leave with her?"

"Roger-" Mark began, but again, Roger cut them off.

The manager (who was a good six inches shorter than Roger) gulped, shaking slightly. "Listen, sir, I didn't see. Please, just-"

"You have to have seen! Someone has to have seen!" the rocker snapped, shaking the shorter man, who was by now dangling four inches off the ground by his shirt.

Collins stood up, grabbing Roger's shoulder. "Rog, that's enough," he warned. Glaring, Roger abruptly released the manager, who ran back into the kitchen. The two sat down at the table. Roger pushed his drink away, though, scanning the street though the small window in the door.

"Roger, what's going on?" Mimi asked, grabbing his wrist. "Are you saying she really _did _cheat?" Roger opened his mouth to tell them, but decided against it- he didn't want to worry them too much.

Instead, he just shook his head and looked from Mark to Collins and back to Mimi. "We need to find Maureen. As fast as possible."

* * *

><p><strong>Another AN: I woke up this morning, screamed, and jumped on my bed for a few minutes upon seeing that I had two reviews and a story alert. You guys freaking made my day. So kudos to all of you, reviewers and story alerters alike. And in case you all are wondering, there's a tiny bit of MoJo next chapter in the form of a fantasy... It's not much, but I'll add in at least a tiny bit in every chapter until we get to the big, GIANT MoJo chapter...which I am writing write now (and enjoying very much). Anyway. I'll stop blabbering now.**

**There's a little button.  
><strong>**See it?  
><strong>**It's right down there.  
><strong>**Yeah. There.  
><strong>**You know what I add if you click it?  
><strong>**More MoJo.  
>Yeah, you heard me.<br>MORE MOJO.  
>The more you click, the more you get.<strong>**  
>So ya know what you should do?<br>Click it.**

**REVIEW! :D**


	3. Found

**A/N: After realizing how cruel I was being, I ended up adding more MoJo than I thought I would. And by the way, the last two chapters were the only ones that weren't based on either Joanne or Maureen. Sorry about those, just had to set up the plot. Well, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, nothing changed in the past 24 hours. I still don't own it.**

* * *

><p><strong>"SPEEEEEEEEEEAK." *beep*<strong>

"Hey Rog, it's Mimi. Meet me at the Catscratch? I'm gonna go look around the performance space afterward. Well, see you later."

* * *

><p><strong>"SPEEEEEEEEEEAK." *beep*<strong>

"Mark, Roger, it's Collins. I'm going down to the park with Mimi. If you guys decide to meet us there, keep an eye out for Maureen, okay? Still haven't seen her."

* * *

><p><strong>"SPEEEEEEEEEEAK." *beep*<strong>

"It's Mark. Listen, we haven't seen her in a week. I think she's pulling a Mimi. Guys, we need to find her, sooner rather than later."

* * *

><p><strong>"Hey! It's MoJo! If you're hearing this we're probably either really busy or possibly fucking each other. Leave a message after the-" *beep*<strong>

"Joanne, it's Mimi. Have you seen Maureen? We haven't seen her in, like, ten days. We're getting kind of worried. Roger thinks she did something stupid, but he wont tell us what, and... Anyway. Call us if you see her."

* * *

><p><strong>"SPEEEEEEEEEEAK." *beep*<strong>

"Guys, it's Roger. I'm on Avenue A. I swear, I saw her... Meet me down here if you can."

* * *

><p><strong>"SPEEEEEEEEEEAK." *beep*<strong>

"Roger again. I found her."

* * *

><p>"Hey, did you see a girl come through here? Dark, curly hair? About this tall?" Roger continued to describe his friend, tapping his foot impatiently. The officer looked at the ceiling for a minute, before nodding. "That way," he said, pointing.<p>

Roger ran in the direction the officer had pointed, not bothering to thank him. He had to find Maureen. It'd been a week and a half since she'd been seen at the Life. And it wasn't even _that_ that worried Roger- it was the fact that Maureen had been talking to the Man.

Maureen and Roger had known each other since they were kids. No, they hadn't always gotten along well, but due to the fact that their moms had been best friends in college, the children were forced to make the best of their situation. And if there was one thing Roger had learned in the fifteen-odd years he'd known her, it was that Maureen could do stupid, dangerous things when she was heartbroken.

This was one of them.

As he weaved in and out of the crowd making their way onto the subway train, the rocker just hoped she hadn't used it yet. If she had...he shook his head, not wanting to even think about that.

One question rang through his mind: Why'd she do it?

He'd been searching for hours, all around the city, yet it had amounted to nothing. Roger knew they had to find her- he didn't think it was safe to risk one more day- but it looked like it was time to give up for the afternoon. It would probably be a better idea just to go file a missing persons report, and... He stopped his train of thought, noticing a dark-haired figure sitting on a bench in the shadows. "Maureen!" he called. The figure's head shot up, revealing green eyes that were dull from the stress, hunger, and exhaustion she had suffered in the past eleven days. She looked paler, thinner- she probably had barely eaten anything since the night of the breakup. Her hair was wild and tangled; the look on her face was one of desperation.

And there was a needle in her arm.

Eyes wild, she yanked it out, but not before Roger caught sight of it. His expression hardened; he ran up to her and snatched the needle from her hand, feeling extremely betrayed. Enraged. Hurt.

"Why?" he asked. "Why the hell would you do this, Mo?"

A small voice in the back of her head popped up. _Because I need it, I need her..._

Instead she went with, "Roger, it's not what you think."

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure it is!" He looked around, making sure no one could see or hear them, before continuing. "Is this not heroin?"

She lowered her gaze to the floor, choking back tears.

_...with her hair and her eyes and her smile..._

"Why did you do this?" he repeated. "Out of all the people you could turn to, you go to the Man? What the hell! Do you not remember what happened to me? To Mimi? To April?"

At the sound of April's name, Maureen flinched. The two had been close- best friends, even. When she died, it hurt Maureen almost as much as it hurt Roger. The first time you lose someone you're close to...she could never forget the pain, the depression, the longing. Roger tensed, now fully aware of what he had said, but forced himself to carry on with the lecture.

"There are so many things that could happen- addiction, HIV, death... You know that. For god's sake, you saw what happened to me. I just don't know what would even posses you to try this shit."

_...her laugh and her voice and her passion..._

"How many days have you used this?"

"A week," she whispered. "He gave it to me in the alley outside the Life, the day after... after she and I broke up. I wasn't going to use it, but he wouldn't say no, so I took it, and I was so fucking desperate, and by the time about three or four days had passed, I couldn't take it any more, and...you get the picture. I used it every day since."

_...and her touches and her kisses and her love..._

Roger sighed, throwing the needle into the garbage can. "I just can't believe you would do this. You, of all people."

They stood in silence for a little while, before Maureen looked up at him with watery eyes. "Rog, help me. Please."

_...I just need her back..._

The thought echoed around in her head, and she realized just how desperate she was.

After a bit of hesitation, Roger nodded, pulling her into a friendly, comforting embrace. Maureen had to dig her nails into her palm to keep from crying, attempting to ignore the longing she had to run to the trash can, grab the needle, and drive it back into her skin. It was the only thing that could distract her from Joanne... Shoving those thoughts aside, she buried her face in Roger's shoulder.

"We'll make it through this, Mo. You'll be okay."

She wished she could believe him.

* * *

><p>"Do we have to do this?" Maureen whined, fidgeting under the bright florescent lights in the ceiling. The room didn't have a window, and Maureen didn't like enclosed spaces. At all. That on top of everything else made her want to scream and jump off a cliff.<p>

"Yes, Maureen, we have to do this. You know what could happen."

She threw back her head. "For god's sake, Roger, I'm Bi! My partner is a _female_! I couldn't exactly spread it to anyone, could I?"

"Relax, Mo, it'll be done in no time and you'll be able to go back into the daylight," he reassured her. "We just need to know."

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it was Joanne who was with her in the hospital room instead of Roger. Joanne would wrap her arms around Maureen, planting a chaste kiss on her lips before pulling away... Maureen would pull her back in, deepening the kiss, never wanting the moment to end. Passion. Love. Joanne's shirt would end up on the floor, followed by Maureen's, and so on and so forth. Hands would grope, pleasured moans emitted, and neither would care if they got kicked out of the hospotal. The two would finally have a moment to themselves, a moment together... and the things they could do with a mere moment... Maureen could feel the butterflies in her stomach just thinking about it, and had to cross her legs in an attempt to ignore the familiar sensation in her nether regions. It surprised her how badly she longed for the lawyer- surprised her, amazed her, enthralled her, terrified her. In the end, all she was left with was an empty feeling, a newly reknowned longing for the mocha-skinned woman.

But Joanne wasn't there, Maureen had to remind herself, pulling herself out of her sexual fantasy and once again fighting back tears. Joanne didn't want her anymore. Joanne had moved on.

At that point, the doctor reentered the room with a needle (at the sight of which both Maureen and Roger tensed). "Ms. Johnson? Are you ready?"

Maureen took a deep breath and nodded, looking over at her oldest friend, who had stood up and was heading toward the door. "No!"

Roger turned back toward her.

"Please," she begged, feeling the stress of the last week and a half crack down on her. "Stay. I...I can't handle this alone."

He hesitated. "You sure? It'll only take a minute."

She nodded. "I'm sure. I need someone here."

A bit later, the doctor left the two alone while he went to get the results.

"No one else needs to know about this yet," Roger offered.

Maureen nodded, staring at the floor. "Imagine how Mimi would react. Or Collins. Or anyone." _Imagine how Joanne would react, _she added mentally, but decided against voicing the statement.

Lost in thought, they sat in silence for what felt like forever before there was a knock at the door and the doctor came back in.

"All right, ma'am, we have the test results here," he told her.

"Well?" The performer clung to Roger's hand like a lifeline and braced herself. There was a horribly long silence, and Maureen's heart skipped a few beats.

"...Ms. Johnson, I'm just going to cut to the chase. You're HIV positive."

And just like that, the world smashed down on her like a ton of bricks.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, there it is. Hope you liked it. Hmm...well, I had something I needed to say, but I lost it. Oh well. Thank you to my reviewers and story alerters! You guys are the best.**

**It worked, didn't it?  
>Of course it did.<br>See, no harm done in reviewing.  
>You know, this time, you get a cookie. A big cookie. With MoJo on top.<br>You know you want it...  
>You know what to do. :)<strong>


	4. Return

**A/N: Next chapter won't be up until Saturday (or possibly Sunday) so...yeah. Got used to the daily updates? Don't worry. They'll be back. R&R!**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.**

* * *

><p>The walk back to the loft seemed way too long, though it couldn't have been over twenty minutes. Maureen was in complete shock, unable to believe it. Eleven days. Eleven days was all it took to send her life from a moderate high to an all-time low. She'd lost the love of her life, became addicted to heroin, and got diagnosed with motherfucking HIV...it was a lot to handle, and it was tearing her to shreds.<p>

So she really_ did _need Joanne... Maureen only wished she'd realized that sooner. A sea of memories came rushing toward her- memories of steamy nights and passionate mornings, horrible breakups and incredible reunions. It was too late now, though; if Joanne hadn't wanted the normal Maureen, she certainly wouldn't want _this _Maureen; desperate, HIV-inflicted, and drug addicted.

She'd done it now- she'd ruined her own life, and now she'd have to live with it.

The only thing she had left was the Bohos- but even they were slipping away, like sand through her fingers. Angel was dead; in a few years time, Collins would be gone too, and Roger and Mimi. And then Maureen. She'd blow away like a leaf in the wind. Then what would happen? Mark would probably settle down back in Scarsdale with some scarf-loving waitress. Joanne would move on, become a rich and successful lawyer, forget all about her, and find someone else.

And that would be the end of it.

At the thought of the last option, Maureen's heart sank. It was inevitable, really- once Maureen died, Joanne would move on. Considering the way she'd been treated, the lawyer probably wouldn't ever give her a second thought. At least, that's what Maureen expected.

It was all because of that stupid needle, too. If she had just tossed it in the trash the moment the Man had walked away, none of this would've happened.

But she didn't. And that, in itself, was the root of the problem.

"Rog, what am I gonna do?" she whispered, knowing that this was all her doing but not knowing how to fix it.

"I don't know. What _can_ you do, Mo?"

"Gee, thanks for the meaningful and enlightening advice," she muttered. "I feel so uplifted."

He smirked, messing up her hair in a brotherly manner. "Anytime."

She punched him in the arm, but it was so weak he didn't even flinch. Instead, he laughed, causing her to glare for a few seconds before a grin broke through, and they were able to forget the current situation for a few minutes and joke around for the rest of the walk, if only for old time's sake. The unlikely friends. Opposites attract, they say. Maybe it was true, in both friendships and relationships. There were so many examples in Maureen's life- she and Roger, she and Mark, she and Joanne...

Joanne. She needed Joanne. She would die without Joanne.

The performer shook her head to clear it as they arrived at the door of the loft. Neither of them made any move to open it yet, both trying to prepare to go back to the rest of the Bohos. Maureen thought it should've been easy- go in there, answer a few questions, give a few hugs, cry herself to sleep. But it wasn't. The heroin had made sure of that.

"Keep your arm by your side," Roger ordered in a whisper. Maureen obeyed, resisting the urge to look and see how bad it was. "As soon as you get inside, put on something longsleeved."

"What if...what if they find out?"

He sighed. "Then you'll tell them, Mo. That's the only thing you can do."

She nodded, reaching for the door handle; she abruptly stopped when Roger grabbed her wrist.

"By your side," he repeated. As soon as she did, he slid open the door.

Every head in the room shot up, and three relieved figures ran toward her.

"My god, what happened to you?"

"You okay?"

"Where were you?"

"Do you need anything?"

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"Are you-"

"Guys, give her some space," Mimi cut in, hugging the performer. "My god, mija, we were so fucking worried!"

"I'm sorry," Maureen apologized. "I didn't-" She stopped, hearing a door swing shut. Pulling away from Mimi, she caught sight of a mocha figure retreating down the fire escape, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. Every other thought fled from Maureen's mind. "Wha- Joanne? I...what the...Why...?"

One by one, everyone in the room looked away, wondering what to tell her. _She still loves you? She wants you back? She doesn't know it? _"She was worried," Mimi finally informed her, breaking the silence and looking her in the eye with a sympathetic expression. "We had called her and let her know that Roger had found you. She wanted to make sure you were okay. She didn't talk much. Just came over, sat in the living room, and waited." _And paced back and forth, and worried nonstop, and cried her eyes out..._

Impulsively, the performer ran out to the fire escape, her pulse rushing and her head reeling. "Mo-" Collins called after her, but the door swung shut before she could hear any more. She didn't care.

"Pookie!" she shouted desperately, running down the stairs. "Pookie, are you there? Joanne!"

Down on the ground, Joanne froze. _Pookie. _The sound of the pet name shattered her heart to pieces. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she ran down a side alley and down the next random avenue, afraid her heart might stop all together if she saw the diva face to face.

Meanwhile, the performer was taking the stairs two at a time, determined to catch up with her...Maureen couldn't even bring herself to think the name again. Her lawyer, she thought, shaking her head. The heel of her leather boot caught in a gap in the floor of the fire escape; she yanked her foot upward, breaking the heel, and kept going. Finally, she reached the bottom of the metal staircase, frantically scanning the street from right to left. Joanne was nowhere in sight. _No, _she thought with a sinking feeling, scanning the face of every pedestrian. She couldn't be gone. She was so close. So close.

Maureen wanted the needle, she wanted the smack, and she wanted Joanne.

After a while, a thin arm wrapped around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Mo. She's just not ready. She's in shock. She'll come around eventually." Maureen started sobbing again, hating herself both for how overemotional she was being and for letting Joanne slip away once more; and Mimi just hugged her and murmured consolations, wiping her tears every few minutes. Eventually, Maureen dried her eyes, and the two stood in silence for a few moments and stared at the empty faces passing by. The cold wind bit at their faces and whipped their hair around, and Maureen shivered constantly (for more than one reason). "Come on," Mimi said softly. "Let's go back up there. The guys are worried sick."

"Well, that'll be a first," Maureen muttered, trying to distract herself. "Are you sure we're talking about the same people? Omitting Roger."

"You want me to tell you the truth? You scared the crap out of them," Mimi told her. "They'll never admit it, though."

The performer sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. It was just...too much to handle. It still is."

"Yeah. I know."

They climbed the rest in silence, both lost in thought. It seemed like a good place to think, up on the fire escape, with no one to bug you or tell you to stop moping. Peace- something very hard to come by in the loft.

"Meems, can I tell you something?"

Mimi nodded and perched up on the handrail of the fire escape, grabbing the freezing metal for balance.

Maureen leaned against the brick outer wall of what she guessed would be Mimi's apartment, keeping her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I keep thinking about April and..you know...what she did. And I'm starting to understand why she did it."

Looking over at her friend with a confused and slightly concerned expression, Mimi climbed off the rail, walking over to stand next to Maureen. "What do you mean?"

"You know, with the...the you-know-what. I can...I can kind of see why she would-shit," she muttered, realizing that Mimi didn't know. About the drugs, the HIV, anything. Part of her wanted to confess everything right there, but she kept her mouth shut, mentally slapping herself in the face.

"What? Maureen, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing," she blurted a little too quickly, inwardly cursing again.

"You're shivering," Mimi pointed out, now a bit suspicious. A memory wormed it's way into her mind.

_"I know you, you're...you're shivering."_

She couldn't... No. She wouldn't. Mimi cleared her head, passing both the flashback and Maureen's comment off as a coincidence.

Maureen shrugged, forcing a casual expression. "It's cold. Come on, let's go inside." Seeing the Latina open her mouth to say something, she faked an intense shiver. The dancer didn't buy it at all, but nevertheless, she let the conversation drop.

Before they reentered the loft, Mimi turned to her. "Mo, please...can you tell me what happened?" She grabbed the diva's arm, causing Maureen to tense.

"What? What's wrong?" She made a move to grab her arm again, but Maureen stepped back a little, yanking it behind her.

"Nothing, I just...um...your hand is cold." With that, she ran into the loft.

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, that chapter did not want to be written. I just wanted to make sure I posted it today. **

**I might lose a few of you by saying this (I sincerely hope I don't, but I know it may be inevitable), but I was looking over the parts of this fic I have written right now, and it's going to be more drama/angst/hurt/comfort/etc. than MoJo fluff. There will be MoJo, but it'll probably be small doses of MoJo that might make you hate my guts if anybody is only reading in anticipation on the shameless MoJo fluffsmut. Sad but true. :( Plus I had to cut some MoJo out because it was so crappy it wasn't even postable. I'd die of shame. Anyway. Really sorry if it's disappointing! :'(**

**I know I say this every chapter, but thank you to the reviewers and alerters. 'Cuz you really do rock.**

**I apologize for the rambling I just submitted you all to. It's 1AM.**

**I don't have bribe right now, but... please? Review? Even if you hate my guts? Out of the goodness of your hearts? (Wonder how many people will get the reference.)**

**Review!**


	5. Busted

**A/N: I am so sorry I didn't have this up two days ago. I went out of town, and I lost my computer, and I know I'm just rambling and making excuses so I'll shut up now. Anyway. Enjoy!**

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><p>Four days had passed. Maureen's state of depression had barely improved- but she was home, she was safe...<p>

"Give it to me!"

...and she was in a horrible state of withdrawal.

"No, Maureen."

"GIVE IT, DAVIS!"

"Come on, Mo, you're stronger than this!"

"I need it! I'm dying! I swear, Roger, if you don't fork it over I'm going to-"

"What the crap is happening in here?" The two whirled around, eyes widening at the sight of Mimi standing in the doorway of Roger's bedroom, arms folded and a questioning look on her face.

"How much of that did you hear?" Roger asked, holding the confiscated needle behind him so that his girlfriend wouldn't see.

"Well, all of us heard every word of it," she said, "but we have no fricking clue what you're talking about." The latina raised her eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"We, uh...well...she..." Roger stuttered, trying to make up an excuse. His girlfriend just stared expectantly from him to Maureen and back again. The musician was so preoccupied with covering the argument that he didn't notice Maureen slowly pull the needle out of his grasp, running for the bathroom; by the time he did it was too late. The musician banged on the door, jiggling the doorknob and praying that it would open. "Mo, open up! For god's sakes, open the door!"

"Roger, what the hell is going on?" Mimi asked, grabbing his arm.

"Hang on a sec," he ordered, holding up a hand to shush her. "MO, IF YOU DON'T GET YOU BUTT OUT HERE IN THE NEXT TEN SECONDS, I SWEAR TO GOD-"

"I DON'T GIVE A CRAP WHAT YOU DO! IT'S MY LIFE AND I'LL DO WITH IT WHAT I WANT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. AND YOU CAN STOP ACTING LIKE MY MOTHER, DAVIS, BECAUSE I DON'T NEED HER, OR YOU, OR ANYONE ELSE! I CAN TAKE CARE OF MY OWN FUCKING SELF!"

It was times like these, Mark thought from his seat on the couch, that he was glad Mimi owned the apartment below them.

"Maureen, Roger, somebody just tell me what the heck is going on!" Mimi shouted.

Suddenly, Roger sighed. "Maureen Johnson, listen to me," he said in a dangerously calm tone. "If you don't come out, I'm going to tell them."

There was a pause. "No." Her voice was closer to the door now. You could hear the hollowness of her tone, the desperation packed into the single word. It sent chills down Roger's spine.

Collins and Mark were standing a few feet away, trying (and failing) to make it look like they weren't eavesdropping. Mimi had her arms folded, looking like she was going to snap if someone didn't explain in the next five minutes.

"Mo, come out here," Roger repeated. "I need to talk to you. In private," he added, throwing his roommates and girlfriend an 'eavesdrop-and-I'll-kill-you' look.

After a few moments, the door creaked open. "Fine." The performer slipped out into the hallway, closing the bathroom door behind her. As soon as the loft's door slid shut, Roger turned toward her.

"You need help."

The brunette glared. "What I need is what you want to keep away from me." After a moment, a look of realization appeared on her face. "That's why you're so protective! You want to get it away from me so you can have it for yourself! Oh my god, Roger, you're such a jackass!"

"That's insane, Maureen."

"Yeah, well, so are you." She made a move to go back inside the loft, but Roger grabbed her arm.

"Listen to me. You only took it for a week, and look how out of control you've gotten. This isn't like you. It _isn't _you. It's the heroin talking.

Maureen stared angrily at her feet.

"Mo, this is bad. If you don't stop this crap right now, it'll get more and more serious. You need help. At least from us. Look, Mimi and I have been through this before- hell, it took her until last month to fully conquer it. We know how it feels. If you'll let me tell her, we-"

"No!" She glared up at him. "You promised you wouldn't tell. Come on, Roger, you fucking promised."

"That was before I knew how bad it was." Maureen averted her eyes, staring at the floor. "Look at me, Maureen!" He growled. After a few moments of stubborn resistance, she raised her eyes to his face, giving him the evil eye. The musician ignored it. "We'll help you."

Folding her arms, she huffed. "Two more days. Give me two more days, and if I've used it again at any point, you can tell her." She had no intention of trying to get clean, but if she admitted that, Roger would never stop bugging her about it.

Roger contemplated it, then exhaled heavily. "All right, fine. Two days, and that's it."

The performer could see a simple plan forming in her head- wait until midnight, sneak out the fire escape, go find the Man. She continued to glower at him for a moment before sliding open the door and storming back inside, heading for the couch; she was almost there when she heard a whisper from across the room.

"Why?" It was Mimi.

Maureen stopped short, mind reeling with the possibilities running through her head. Had Roger told them, even though he'd promised not to? Had they seen her? Summoning her inner actress and forcing a confused expression, she slowly turned to face the latina. "Huh? What're you-" She froze, eyes wide, unable to finish the sentence.

Her heart nearly stopped. Clutched in Mimi's hand was the needle, which had been carelessly left on the bathroom counter.

"Why?" Mimi repeated, louder this time, her eyes locked on the needle. "Why would you do this?"

"I... I didn't...I mean, I...I swear, Mimi, I-"

The dancer strode forward, and before Maureen could process anything her arm had been flipped over, revealing the tracks on her pale skin. Taking in a sharp breath, Mimi let the arm drop, shifting her gaze to her friend's face. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Maureen made a grab for the needle, but Mimi yanked it away before she could get within six inches of it. "I wouldn't even have told Roger, if I'd had the choice," the brunette murmured, staring hungrily at Mimi's fist. "He caught me using it. God, I'm such an idiot!" she moaned. _I want it so bad..._

Mimi grabbed Maureen by the shoulders, shaking her back and forth. "What the hell were you thinking? Do you know what you could get from that thing?" She wanted to cry and scream, unable to believe this was happening. Maureen on drugs? She'd seen what had happened. She'd been one of the ones to help Roger out of his addiction. It was just hard to believe that after everything the group had been through, she would even consider it.

_You have no idea. _A few tears started to roll down Maureen face. She gave a tight-lipped nod before turning and running out onto the fire escape. Honestly, she wasn't sure why she was crying- fury, hopelessness, desperation- but it didn't matter. Resisting the urge to throw herself off the fire escape and fall five stories to the ground, she screamed, kicking the rusty metal bars and falling to her knees on the metal floor.

Confused, Mimi looked over at Roger, who just stared grimly at the floor. Mark finally got the sense to put down the camera (which had, as usual, been recording the whole event) and go on some aimless search through the kitchen. While the stripper and the rocker argued, Collins walked outside and sat down next to Maureen, who was crying silently with her head pressed up against the metal bars. Patiently, he rubbed her back, waiting out the storm.

Looking down, Maureen could only see one thing. Joanne. Every voice, every figure, every face on the street turned into Joanne. Every thought led her back to the mocha lawyer, the one she longed to be with right now. Maureen wanted nothing more than to run to Joanne's apartment. To have Joanne forgive her, embrace her, tell her everything would be all right... But Joanne was gone, now. It was over.

Somehow, that thought made her more depressed than she already was- something Maureen didn't think was possible.

After a while the tears subsided, and the only sound was that of car horns honking on the street below and people talking on the sidewalks. The tension was so palpable, you could've cut through it with a knife. "I'm such a fricking retard," Maureen groaned, sniffling. "If it wasn't for me, she'd be here right now, and I wouldn't be out here, and... It's just...it's all too much," she confessed, her voice cracking. "Joanne, the smack, the..." _The disease, _she added mentally, but kept her mouth shut.

"The what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Maureen shook her head, looking down at the ground and squeezing her eyes shut and kicking herself for nearly letting it slip. _Well, that was fast, _the brunette thought. _It only took...what, four days? They probably already know I have it..._ She bit her lip, fighting back another stream of tears. The anarchist noticed this, sighing. "Come on, Mo, it's okay."

For another three minutes Maureen just cried into her best friend's shoulder. Eventually, she was able to compose herself, drying her face and breathing deeply. "Collins, Roger made me go to the doctor the other day. The same day he found out about the...the stuff." She couldn't bring herself to say the word again.

In any other situation, Tom Collins would've made some kind of a joke about it, just to lighten the mood. Not now, though. He just nodded.

"And?"

She stared pointedly at the street below, trying to figure out how to say it. She wanted to melt down through the metal floor of the fire escape, down to the street, a meaningless little puddle of Maureen to be swept away in the rain. Anything to keep her from having to face reality, to keep her from having to say the two words that were currently the bane of her existance.

Finally, burying her face in her hands, she forced them out.

"HIV positive."

He might've said something to her, he might not have...Maureen wasn't paying attention. She tuned everything out. All she could think about was how she could die any day now, and she needed Joanne more than ever.

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><p><strong>AN: Right now I just want to thank my review/alert/favoriters: Fanzel, TMOLMRENT, zacxthexvacuum, Maybe-I-Should-Write-Something, Athlantis, Writress, and RIOTonAvenue-B. You guys are the only reason I'm still posting this, so thank you!**

**Review please!**


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